


on your mark

by TheAceApples



Series: sanguine [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anxiety, Autistic Dogma (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Contracts, Discussions of abuse, GFY, Jedi Culture Disrespected, M/M, Magical Realism, Mandalorian Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Non-Graphic Discussions of Blood Drinking, Past Abuse, Past Dogma/Pong Krell, Pre-Relationship, Relationship Negotiation, Star Wars Alternate Universe - No Jedi, Star Wars Rarepair Exchange Treat, Stealth Sugar Daddy AU, Vampire Darth Maul, no betas we die like man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Nobody calls them "thralls" anymore.
Relationships: Dogma/Darth Maul
Series: sanguine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057568
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	on your mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hero_Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero_Thief/gifts).



Dogma fiddles with the charm on his cuff as another customer enters the little café and heads directly to the counter. He wasn't late, and neither is his appointment, but tell that to the anxiety goblin that lives in his brain.

The coffee and pumpkin loaf he'd bought earlier had both been delicious, but as ten minutes turn into twenty, turn into nearly thirty, they sit heavily in his stomach.

 _I wasn't late,_ he reminds himself. _I'm early, and that's on time._

He swirls the last dregs of coffee around the bottom of the kitschy little mug he was given and fiddles some more. The ambient noise levels go up and down, up and down, the voices of the customers and cashier achieving their own mesmerizing Doppler effect. It isn't an approved use of the charm, drains its power faster, but—

_"Dogma."_

The kitschy mug flies out of his grasp, over the edge of the table and down, down, down. Dogma watches in resigned horror.

It halts a hair's breadth from the floor, last drops of coffee splattering on a pair of cold iron prosthetic feet. Sighing, Dogma watches it float upwards and settle neatly back onto the table. When he looks up, he nearly flinches again.

"Sorry about that," he says, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck. "I take it you're the Opress brothers’ prodigal third?"

The red-marked Zabrak looks at him with unnerving golden eyes, motionless, before he nods and sits. "Yes," he replies after just a beat too long. He folds his hands on his laps and then goes completely still again.

Long used to Dathomiri weirdness, Dogma nods and pushes the cup farther away from the edge.

"Right, yeah. Savage and Feral talk about you a lot." He glances up, sees those glowing eyes fixed on him, and drops his gaze back down. "They were practically bouncing off the walls when they got your message about coming back. They missed you."

The silence isn't quite so long this time. "Yes," the third brother says again, sounding—not hesitant, but not confident, either. "I apologize for my tardiness."

Glancing at his chrono, Dogma smiles ruefully. "You're fifteen minutes early."

"And yet you've been here long enough to eat, drink, and mire yourself in anxiety." His tone is almost light, certainly nowhere near reproachful, but. "I had planned to purchase your meal. Would you like anything else from the bakery case?"

Steeling himself, Dogma straightens up a bit and looks him straight in the eye with a practiced smile. "No, thank you, I'm fine. Shall we start?"

"… Very well, I am Maul," Maul, apparently, says, twitching a single index finger up and down twice before settling. "I have taken the liberty of procuring a ready-made contract for today. You may alter its majority before signing, although I have a handful of clauses on which I will not be moved."

Dogma widens his smile and nods, raising his eyebrows just a hair.

Maul blinks slowly, right hand flexing slightly over his left.

"Savage and Feral have also informed me that you find direct eye-contact distressing. I do not protest, should you wish to dispense with the pleasantry."

Dropping his eyes back to the table, Dogma lets out a long, slow breath, shoulders relaxing under his jacket. "Thanks," he says with a vague nod, fingers going instinctively back to his cuff. "Appreciate it. So… you, uh. Are looking for a thrall."

If possible, Maul becomes even stiller.

"Dietary companion," he eventually corrects, thankfully sounding unoffended. "And, yes. My previous companion and I parted ways when I returned to Coruscant. You are looking to fill the vacancy?"

Dogma bobs his head, wishing he'd thought to bring a fidget toy, even _if_ it made him look unprofessional. "S'why I'm here, yeah."

"May I ask what compels you to do so? As I'm sure you know, most dietary companions grew up in a clan." He shifts his legs under the small table, clanking softly, and pulls out an official-looking datapad. "According to my brothers, you'd never met a Dathomiri before they became your neighbors."

After a deep breath to settle his nerves, Dogma darts a look around the café. "That's correct, yes." He almost says _sir,_ and has to close his eyes, pressing firm fingers to his forehead. "Feral mentioned that your last _dietary companion_ was a live-in, and that you were looking for a replacement. I just got out of a—" Dogma hesitates, looking for the right words "—bad relationship, and we were living together, so. Seemed like a perfect excuse to move out of my brothers' place."

Maul nods. "Your brothers are overbearing?"

"Nah, they just." Dogma wishes he _had_ gotten another pastry, or cup of coffee, or _anything_ to shove in his mouth. Give him more time to think. "Rex is in a _very_ happy relationship with a _very_ demonstrative couple and Cody's datemate practically _lives_ at the apartment. It's… crowded, and… alienating, I guess. They'd never liked Krell to start with, so now that we've imploded, it just feels. _Weird,_ living with them and their functional, non-abusive relationships."

"Krell. Do you know his family name?" Maul asks after a very long pause. "Perhaps his address, workplace, and Social Security number?"

Dogma can't help it; he laughs. _"No,_ you're not gonna _kill_ him," he says, grinning up at the Dathomiri Zabrak.

Maul raises his chin and sniffs. "I fail to see why not," he stiffly replies.

"Because I have dibs, first of all," Dogma cackles. And then he starts ticking off fingers. "Then my brothers. Then _your_ brothers. Then my boss. Then my coworkers. 'Fraid there's a whole line ahead of you, Maul."

The next silence doesn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable, warmth lingering in Dogma’s chest. It’s nice, to sit in a quiet little bubble with someone who, though a stranger, is immediately willing to take steps to protect him from Krell. Sure, his brothers are still baying for blood, but that’s different; the _Ka’ra_ basically paid them do that.

 _Maul,_ on the other hand, doesn’t know him from the Mand’alor.

“You are… very loved.”

Startled, Dogma looks up at Maul, whose mind is, by all appearances, a thousand parsecs out past the Core. “Yeah, I’m lucky that way…” he says, feeling his cheeks get a little hot. It occurs to him, rather abruptly, that, even if Savage and Feral had been the same way, most non-Mandalorians wouldn’t be so ride-or-die about someone they’d just met. “Um, why didn’t your dietary companion accompany you back to Coruscant?”

“She has a romantic partner in the area whom she didn’t want to leave behind,” Maul says without concern. “Which reminds me—” He looks down at the datapad. “—are you seeking to engage in romantic or sexual relations with each other during the course of our companionship?”

Blink

"No."

Maul nods, unperturbed. "Would you like to include language to disallow the development of such relations?"

Another blink.

"I… don't feel that's necessary, no."

Another nod.

"To the best of your knowledge, will you be consuming alcohol, or other mind-altering substances, or engaging in romantic or sexual relations with others during the course of our companionship?"

Dogma raises his eyebrows and takes a deep breath. "'Yes' to the alcohol, 'probably not' to the drugs, and 'I just got out of a long-term abusive relationship' to the sex or romance," he says flatly. "Any other weirdly specific and invasive questions?"

To his knowledge, Zabraks don't blush, but the way Maul's intense expression wavers makes him think that he's doing the equivalent.

"Are there… any behaviors you would like me to avoid, should you agree to become my dietary companion?" he eventually asks, gaze deliberately fixed on the datapad.

"Sure," Dogma drawls, "don't accuse me of cheating on you whenever I ask you to do your share of the chores. Don't isolate me from my friends and family and gaslight me into believing that no one else could possibly love me. Don't touch me without permission, and stop touching me when I tell you I'm done. Don't request—or demand—the passwords to my electronics or social media accounts. Don't accuse me of being lazy, or deliberately shirking my share of the chores, or being difficult just to _spite you_ when I have sensory overload. Don't use it against me when I go non-verbal or have a meltdown. Don't move my possessions without telling me or—or _throw them away—"_

He cuts himself off when he realizes how loud his voice has gotten, and darts a look around the café. Nobody had noticed his outburst.

"I see," Maul says, fingers _tap-tap-tapping_ on the datapad. "Savage informed me that you are Autistic—are there any behaviors you would like me to avoid, or accommodations I can make to my home before you move in?"

"Is that normally part of the contract?"

"Of course it is; we're not _animals."_

Something in Dogma's chest loosens, and he settles more comfortably in his seat. He cautiously lists out the usual things they do at his brothers' places to reduce sensory overload for him and Hardcase, and watches Maul's fingers fly across the screen without hesitation.

Things like bright colors and strong scents seemingly aren't a problem, as Maul's lodgings are apparently brand new and he isn't inclined towards either. He offers to procure blackout curtains and allow Dogma to pick out rugs for the areas with hard flooring. He agrees easily to establish routines early on and let Dogma know as quickly as possibly before deviating.

When the topic of actual _feeding sessions_ comes around, Dogma isn't nearly as anxious about it as he'd thought he'd be.

"The particulars can be revisited later, but can it be agreed that you will be available to provide nutritional support no less than once every fourteen days and no more than twice within a seven-day period?"

Dogma swallows and calls to mind everything he'd looked up on the holo-net about Dathomiri feeding and every soothing conversation he'd had with Savage and Feral before agreeing to meet with their brother. It's, really, not that big a deal. Much more stressful in theory than in reality. The whole thing won't even leave scars, like popular media loves to tell them all it would.

"That sounds… fair? It sounds fine to me." He tries not to look at Maul's teeth. "Is that enough for _you?"_

Maul hums dismissively. "I have access to artificial and donated blood that make up the bulk of my diet. One session every two weeks is sufficient. More than two sessions in one week would put undue strain on your body. Is the stipend that Savage initially discussed with you adequate or would you like to discuss something more substantial?"

"Um." Thinking suddenly of the _highly_ uncomfortable conversation he'd had with Feral, Dogma clears his throat. "You know, I _do_ have a job. And the agreement already includes room and board. So… you don't… _need_ to pay me, on top of that."

Maul looks up at him.

"You're providing a service," he replies, mystified. "Of course I'm going to _pay_ you for it."

Dogma opens his mouth, sighs, and closes it. "Alright. The stipend is fine as it is. Anything else?"

"Nothing that requires verbal discussion. I will leave the amended contract here for your perusal." He stands up, deliberately keeping the legs of the chair from scraping against the floor. One hand curls into itself three times before going still again. "Thank you for your time. I look forward to our partnership, should you choose to go forward with it. I hope you have a pleasant day."

Then he places a credit chip on the table and leaves.

Dogma twists the charm on his cuff just enough that he can hear the whir of his prostheses as he walks away. When Maul exits the café and disappears from view, he turns it back down and, feeling a nebulous kind of suspicion, checks how much is on the chip.

It's. Many times the cost of his coffee and slice of pumpkin loaf. That's… fine.

Feral had, for lack of a better word, _warned_ him that Maul likes to use money to ease social interactions whenever possible. And _Maul_ had said that he'd meant to pay for whatever Dogma ordered during the meeting. So. Alright then.

Tuning the charm, he goes up to the counter and repeats his order. Then he sits back down, looks over the rest of the contract, and takes a deep breath. He signs it and checks his chrono.

Dogma agrees to become a thrall to a Dathomiri _vampir_ before it's even time for lunch. His brothers might _actually_ kill him, this time.


End file.
